


A Little Better Than Me (A Little Worse Than You)

by oliviathecf



Series: Writer's Favorites [12]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Blowjobs, Drunk Sex, M/M, Pity Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: A feeling of anger and uselessness, swirling with the liquor inside of him, made him feel absolutely pathetic.





	A Little Better Than Me (A Little Worse Than You)

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after the "Rogues Reloaded" arc in Flash Rebirth but a fan of the show could probably enjoy it too. Basically, the Last Heist Ever goes awry and there's a part where Cold whispers "We were so close" as the Flash catches up to their escape boat. Mix that with him saying that Barry thinks they're better than him and this fic was born! 
> 
> I've been holed up, reading a lot of Flash comics. And I was like "I ship this pairing, let's see how many fics there are" and my eyeballs like popped out of my sockets for a second. Then I remembered that the Flash TV show is a thing, so that explained it. Still some good reads out there even if they are for a show that I've only seen a handful of episodes for.
> 
> I almost named this fic "You're Making It So Easy To Throw Myself Away" after the song Sweet Disaster by Dreamers but I didn't and just stuck with an original title. I like it because it highlights the whole "You think you're better than us" conversation.
> 
> I marked this dubcon because Barry is willing but they don't reaaaaally talk about it and it's definitely surprising to both of them. I've gone into my thoughts about dubcon not being a real thing before and being a purely fictional thing, but this is a fictional story so it gets a dubcon tag.
> 
> Update, 4/23/18: I removed most of the italics because I felt like they detracted from the fic.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

On nights where he couldn’t tell if he was spoiling for a fight or a fuck, he knew that he was just _spoiling_. 

Drunk off cheap whiskey from days where he spent the last of his hard earned cash, missing the days where the Flash was up in space, Len found himself staggering to wherever he was calling home that night, bunked up with Mardon or Scudder because anyone else would be too obvious. They had gotten so close, so many times that it had started to make Len feel sick.

The lack of sleep made the bags under his eyes grow even darker, the creases even deeper. He caught his reflection in a window and Len found himself thinking about how much _older_ he looked. He scowled at himself and took another swig of his whiskey, crinkling the paper bag in his fist. 

Not for the first time that night, he thought about how the Flash ruined everything. They were finally going to get out of the lifestyle, just one last job and they were going to be done with everything. Retire somewhere warm, see that real smile on his sister’s face that he hadn’t seen in a very long time, relief on the faces of his Rogues. His friends, his _family_ , they were finally going to be happy.

“God _dammit_.” He hissed, looking at the bitter clench of his jaw in the reflection of the storefront.

Len contemplated throwing his bottle at the window, just for the dramatic effect. Instead, he lifted the bottle back to his lips and drank more. 

Because, with a flash of yellow lightning and a crackling in the air, he found something else to throw the bottle at. He cradled it closer to his chest instead, narrowing his eyes at the Flash. The Flash, who gave him a disapproving look. It was unintentional, a rational part of Len’s brain told him, but it was written in his eyes and on the terse edge of his smile, lips just a bit too thin.

“Keeping out of trouble, Cold?” He chirped.

Len scoffed because he didn’t feel like responding just yet, taking another pull from the bottle until he was nearly gagging on it. He wanted to say something witty, or something calculating, but the holster on his belt was empty and his vision was starting to swim.

“What’s it to ya?” He hissed, waving the bottle in the Flash’s general direction, sloshing liquor over his fingers. 

A brown droplet trailed down his knuckles, landing on the ground, and Len saw the Flash follow it with his eyes, pupils flicking down before going back up to look into his eyes. He want to take that look, the concern, the pity, and throw it back in his fake, kind face. He wanted to, he _yearned_ to destroy the bastard. Instead, Len just raised the bottle back to his mouth and gives the Flash another morose look behind it.

He realized, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the Flash should have probably said something by now instead of just staring at him with a sickening mix of pity and accusation in his eyes. Len thought that he should rush forward, forget about his lack of gun and just stick to fists. The Flash was fast enough to avoid his fists but he might get one good punch in, the feeling of his knuckles against the Flash’s cheek would be satisfying enough to make his night somewhat less pathetic.

After what felt like hours but was only a few beats of a second, the Flash tried again.

“I heard you got out.”  
“Good behavior.” He sneered.

The Flash actually laughed at that and it almost made him feel better for a fraction of a second, before Len remembered who it was and that he was likely laughing _at_ him. Regardless, it did one thing for him, and that was take the fight right out of him. 

That just left one thing he needed, and Len had struck out with every woman he tried to hit on, every man that didn’t understand the sly glance he sent their way. That just left him, the Flash, and the rain slicked streets of Central City that were blacker than the blank, starless sky. And, of course, the half empty bottle that he was throwing into the trash in favor of advancing on the Flash.

The Flash, who’s fight or flight instincts were currently pointing towards flight, who looked like he didn’t want to leave a very drunk Captain Cold to his own devices, thighs tensing before relaxing as Len collided into him, body instead of fists. With a hand in the middle of the Flash’s slim chest, right over the logo, he began pushing him back into the alley behind him. The Flash’s skin was vibrating like a live wire and he looked like he was about to run off yet again.

Yet he didn’t, held his breath as Len steered him in, moving until his back was pressed against the hard brick. It was rough, even through his undone parka, and the Flash was standing before him, looking just as concerned as before. He tried one more time, finding his words a few moments after opening his mouth.

“Are...Are you okay, Snart?”

Len gave him another sour look, tinged with need in a way that made the Flash’s eyes widen just slightly.

“Just...Just shut up. For once, just... _shut up_.” He hissed, voice quiet in a way that made him sound desperate as his fingers moved up to the exposed skin on the Flash’s face.

He wondered why he hadn’t flashed away yet, was just letting a very drunk Captain Cold touch him, but then he saw it. Hidden behind the pity and panic was _guilt_ , buried deep in those stupid blue eyes. The sight of guilt made his mouth curl into a sneer, made him act drastically and push the Flash down until he was on his knees before Len, looking up at him and letting out a pathetic, panicked gasp.

Len grasped the back of his head and mumbled something he didn’t really mean about making him pay before pulling the Flash forward until he was sputtering against the front of his pants. He wasn’t even hard but the sight of his greatest rival on his knees, fogged over blue eyes looking up at him with pinprick pupils, definitely piqued his interest. Mixed with the warmth pressing up against him and Len soon grew harder, cock jumping up to attention.

If he couldn’t have a fight with the Flash, he was damn sure going to get something else out of him. And, while the Flash wasn’t exactly moaning for it, he hadn’t moved from his spot even though he could without really having to try. Len wasn’t a monster after all, he just needed something that would require a bit of pushing, a bit of not-so-gentle persuasion. He would get the picture if the Flash said no or if he pushed back and ran away. Hell, Len would get it if the Flash punched him for this.

Instead, the Flash’s eyes fluttered closed and, while he didn’t open his mouth or anything, his breathing evened out and he stayed right where he was. Neither man said anything, Len’s fingers splayed out over the back of the Flash’s cowl, not pulling him closer or keeping him there, just _touching_.

After a few moments of the both of them just breathing the same air, staring at each other, Len reached for his belt with a shaking hand. The metal buckle jingled in the silence between them and he felt the Flash shudder under his hand, heard him suck in a shaking breath. By the time he pulled his cock through the fly of his boxers, he was already fully hard at the sight of the Flash on his knees, at the sight of the dusting of pink over his cheekbones, at the sight of those pinprick pupil slowly blowing out wider until the blue of his eyes was just a faint ring around the black. The rosy head of his cock pressed against the Flash’s lips, smearing pre-cum over them.

The Flash’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips on automatic, instead it brushed against the slit of his cock. Len groaned, looking down at the Flash. The Flash, who still had his tongue out and pressed against the cock in front of him, who opened his mouth to take the head of him inside. He slid down to take more, bobbing forward slowly and giving a few wet sucks at the hard length in his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , look at you.” He slurred out, wanting to mention how it took a real shitty sort of hero to get on his knees for his villain in some grimy alley. 

Instead, he just swore again and bucked up hips up into the wet heat of the Flash’s mouth, pushing his cock further in. To his credit, the Flash took it in stride, almost like he had done this before. Maybe he had, Len didn’t really know. He almost wanted to ask, wanted to tease the Flash about being good at it, but, every time he opened his mouth, the only thing that could come out was a curse or a moan. 

The Flash’s tongue teased around the sides, running along sensitive veins. Gloved hands came up, both of them fisting in the fabric of his jacket, grabbing greedy handfuls as he licked and sucked at Len’s cock. His head was swimming, looking down into eyes that were glazed over with tears, only making those eyes look impossibly bluer. He thought about pushing that cowl back to pull at the Flash’s hair but he realized that the encounter would be over before he could even think about finishing. Instead, he gripped the back of the Flash’s head and guided him down to take a little bit more in.

His head hit the back of the brick wall, moan echoing through the alley as the Flash followed his hand and sunk all the way down on his cock. His lips were pressed against the front of his pants, throat constricting around him and Len almost felt like crying from how good it felt. He already felt like he needed a cigarette and he wasn’t even anywhere near orgasm, but the Flash was humming around his cock like it was nothing. Len didn’t like to brag...okay, he did, he knew he was definitely not nothing. Still, the Flash was bobbing up and down on his cock and, yeah, he had definitely done this before.

“Jesus Christ,” He hissed, and he wanted to say something witty but he just moaned instead, “ _Fuck_!”

The Flash just gave a wet hum in response and, in a moment of clarity, Len realized that the guilt in his eyes was still there. That this was exactly what he thought it was.

A _pity fuck_. 

The thought should’ve made his stomach roll in disgust but, instead, his orgasm caught him by surprise. His hips thrust up once and he gave a moan that sounded pathetic even to his own ears. When he came, he came hard, pulsing and shooting down the Flash’s throat. The Flash swallowed every drop, actually moaning around Len. For a brief moment, Len couldn’t decide who was the most pathetic between the two of them before realizing that he was the one who was trying to find clarity and relief at the bottom of a bottle, the one who let the Flash ruin _everything_.

Len pushed the Flash back and tucked himself into his pants, not bothering to zip up as he bucked his belt. The Flash looked up at him with the same pitying eyes, lips slick with saliva and cum and flushed from the effort, and Len thought he was going to be sick. 

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, giving one last sour look at the Flash. When he walked off, he felt neither satisfied nor any better about letting his Rogues down.

The only solace was that he left the Flash in the alley with no relief and the evidence of what they had done still left on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave some love (or hate) either here or at my tumblr:
> 
>  
> 
> [ Fic Blog. ](http://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> I might do some more Coldflash works in the future, I'm not too sure but I really did enjoy writing this so I probably will.


End file.
